Am I More Than This?
by EnglishPrincessRose
Summary: Examines HB's life outside of Cackle's. Her family and life at home. Drama will uncover secrets and spark friendship and possibly oc romance. I hope you enjoy. Have attempted to add a humourous edge dont know if it works though.
1. Morning person

Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with The Worst Witch. The story and the sisters are my only creations.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

There goes my alarm again. I hate that wretched thing. It is the bane of my life. Mornings are truly the work of the devil. Not that anyone would ever know I am not a morning person for I am always perfect when I meet them. I eventually roll out of bed, having hit the 'snooze' button no fewer than six times. The shower will wake me up. Wishful thinking. Still, even in my dreamlike stake, I love the feel of each liquid particle that drops onto my skin as the warm water cascades.

Refreshed; I take my dripping form towards my generous closet. Hmmm, what shall I wear today? A long dress and black obviously. Definitely, nothing else is appropriate. Not this airy fairy 'casual' attire that the Headmistress lets Miss Drill get away with. And her hair! How unbefitting for a professional woman. It belongs to an unkempt teenage boy not a professional woman, supposedly imparting her knowledge on impressionable young girls. Really what kind of example is she setting with that wild appearance? I would never be caught dead with a hairstyle like that. No, it is proper that a woman should have long hair. I adore how my hair tumbles down my back. People assume that I scrape it back into a tight bun for a strict and intimidating façade, which, granted, is an added bonus. They just don't think though do they? I am the potions mistress; do they have any idea how impractical it would be to have my hair dripping in potions everyday?! If only they could see past the superficial and be pragmatic for once. I know society does not accept my chosen look as conventional and that is probably why my life is devoid of romance, however, it is what is expected of me as a professional. I know I'm hard on the girls but I wouldn't be doing my job properly if I wasn't. I can see the potential they have.

Listen to me, I've dragged you in and lost us both in my contemplations! Dreamily staring into the mirror. Honestly, what is wrong with me? I'll just check the mirror one more time. After I smoothed my dress for the millionth time, I am ready to leave my room for breakfast. Really though, who wants to start their day at this God forsaken hour, I ask you?! I always look outside during the course of my stroll to the staffroom. Not that there is much to see – its still dark outside! You just know it's going to be a cracking day when all you can see is a murky sky with dozens of threatening clouds. I'm already miserable and I haven't even encountered the incessant cheerfulness of Miss Bat and the tiring diplomacy of Miss Cackle. Thankfully I am the first to arrive, not that I expected anyone to be there already. Creature of habit, as I am, I move to stare out of the window. I could give you a detailed description of the world outside. Tell you that the trees are finally shredding their summer burden. That the tiniest morsel of light is beginning to shimmer through those stormy clouds. I could tell you that the tiny particle of light captures the flawless gold in a single falling leaf just before if skims the earth's carpet for a fairytale landing. I could tell you all of this, had I seen what I was looking at. I was too deep in my thoughts again. I know it is foolish of me but I can't help it; I miss my family. Family, she has family? What, people that love her? I don't talk about them, too many questions to answer. Besides, could you believe that anyone loves me?

I am shocked from my reverie by the sound of the door slamming behind me. Oh, it's only Miss Drill. She and I have never seen eye to eye. I know she thinks I am a good teacher, in spite of her dislike for me. Perhaps she would like me, if she really knew me. I've no need to prove myself to anyone, least of all her. My sisters love me. A lady should always be civilised, no matter what.

'Morning Miss Drill.'

'Good morning Miss Hardbroom.'

There is an awkward silence because neither of us really knows what to say. We've never really understood each other. We both know that there is more beyond the shell of each for us. I have a desire, and I can see it her eyes as well, to discover what lies beneath the surface. But then, where would that lead us? We are simply too comfortable playing this game. Our movements are second nature now. A perfectly timed and choreographed routine. It is merely easier this way. Thankfully a distraction comes soon enough. Mr Blossom arrives with our post. I can hardly contain my excitement at the prospect of being reminded that there is no man to love me. Of course, Imogen has a letter from Serge. It would make you sick too; the way she prances about like a teenage girl with a crush. We met him at the same time you know, when we took the girls on that, shall we say memorable, camping trip. He fell for her straight away. He didn't look twice at me; I didn't expect him to. Imogen is blonde, beautiful and lots of fun. Exactly what every man desires. Not a stern, emotionless disciplinarian with nothing to offer. Let's keep this between us now; I am ever so slightly jealous that she has someone. I am not unhappy with my life. It's just that on cold lonely nights, my bed seems all the more empty. Don't we all wish that there was someone there to hold us at the end of a long day? She only sees Serge in the holidays but at least she has something to look forward to, someone to tell her that everything was going to be alright. Someone to tell her she doesn't have to be strong all the time.

'There is a letter here for you Miss Hardbroom.'

Well that shocked me back to earth. Who was writing to me? _Miss Constance Hardbroom._ It was my sister's handwriting.

_Dear Connie,_

_You need to come back to the manor as soon as you possibly can. Please hurry._

_Love Tia xxx_

It had been a long time since I'd seen such a rushed and panicked letter from Celestia. I knew what it was about. I so hoped that things would be alright, at least for a while. How much more can one family take? I must have gone very pale at this point because Imogen asked me what was wrong. Could I open up to her? Now is not the time. I couldn't tell her, even though I knew what was wrong, I always knew what was wrong. For now I just settled for the simple answer.

'I'm fine Miss Drill; I simply need to go home for a while.'

'You mean back to your rooms?'

'No. As hard as it may be to believe, I do have a life outside of this place.'

She gave me a confused look. The one that said but I thought you lived for this school.

'I have to go home to Hardbroom manor.' She still looks vague, so I roll my eyes, as she expects, and continue. 'When daddy died he left the manor to the four of us. No matter where we are in the world, we will always return to the manor.'

Imogen seemed to have too many questions. Which to ask first?

'I never knew you had siblings.'

'I have three sisters and now I must join them. Excuse me Miss Drill, I must go and pack.'

With that I turned on my heel, a movement I have become infamous for, and left the room to get ready.

Thank you for reading. I hope you enjoyed the first part. Please look out for future chapters where friendship develops. We find out more about her family and there may even be love.


	2. Smaller than ever

Chapter 2

The wicked witch of Cackle's academy actually has family, who knew? I did know that she would run away to 'pack' though. So typical of her, as soon as one of us starts to have a real conversation, she can't handle it. I think, I've always thought, that there is more to Constance than just the ice queen. I just wish she'd take down her armour once in a while.

I wonder why she has never mentioned her family, I saw the look on her face when she realised who the letter was from. She smiled. Not a real smile like a normal emotionally capable person would wear proudly. No, it was that little smile. Her secret smile that says I'm happy but I won't tell anyone. Most people wouldn't notice it but I do. I always notice the little things about her. You'd think her appearance was flawless. Her hair is perfect. You wouldn't notice that there is a tiny clump of three hairs that never goes into her bun with the rest, they are too short. They have been shorter ever since she returned from her break three months ago. She seems like the most confident woman in the room but the reason she sits in the same chair everyday isn't because she values tradition. It's because there is one chair that positions her in just the right place so that they light from the window illuminates her face. It is also the chair that hides the flabby stomach she thinks she has. She has a great figure but I guess we all have our insecurities. Mine? Well I know she'll never love me like I love her.

Constance is always the first in the staffroom in the mornings; I make sure that I am the second. On my walk there I rehearse what I would say to her when I 'unexpectedly' catch her staring out of the window alone. I don't have the courage that she seems to have, even if it is a façade. I guess I'll never know what she thinks about at the window.

'Bring bring, bring bring.' Oh that blasted phone. Typical it never rings except when I am contemplating the mystery that is Constance Hardbroom.

"Good morning, Cackle's Academy."

"Oh hello there, who am I speaking to?"

"Imogen Drill, the …"

"P.E. teacher, yes, of course Connie has talked of you. Could I trouble you find her and give her a message from me."

"Yes that's right," really Constance has mentioned me, how curious, "of course I'd be happy to, what is the message?"

"Can you just tell her please that Celestia phoned and tell her not to go to the manor but straight to the hospital. Carrabelle is worse than we thought."

"I'm so sorry to hear that. I'll find her immediately."

"Thank you, goodbye."

"Bye,"

I think that was the first phone call I've gotten that has made me feel both happy and sad. Its makes me sad to think of someone suffering but then again now I know that I am not just a silly non – witch that isn't worth mentioning to Constance. Maybe she could like me in the way I have imagined she could. And the fact that this woman called her Connie, an obvious term of endearment, is very encouraging. Perhaps there is love under the cover of the ice queen.

This is probably the wrong thing to be thinking about at a time like this.

Why is this woman never where you expect her to be? She said she would be packing, one would assume she'd be in her room. Silly of me to think so obviously. She must be upset about what was in the letter. If she is feeling sad or needs to think about something, then she won't be anywhere that people would think to look for her through fear that she might be discovered to be human. Why do I want so desperately for there to be another side to her?

I'll check Miss Cackle's office, she might have seen her.

"Oh Miss Hardbroom, there you are." She just appeared as I was thinking about her. Oh I really hope she can't read my mind!

"Sorry Miss Drill but I really must be leaving."

Does she deliberately try and avoid talking to me?

"No Miss Hardbroom, Constance, Celestia phoned just now. She asked me to tell you … to tell you that …"

"Come on, come on, you know I am in a hurry."

"Well it's just that she told me that Carrabelle is much worse and that you should go to the hospital straight away."

"I see, well thank you for passing on the message."

"I'm so sorry Constance. Is Carrabelle one of your sisters?"

"Yes, yes she is. It's alright Imogen, she has been ill for a long time. Actually I don't remember what she was like before she was ill anymore.

That last sentence was spoken with an edge to her voice and an almost inaudible sign. Her expression makes me realise that the reason she doesn't talk about her family is because it is painful; too painful. This is just awful. She might be implying that they all knew this would happen but the tower of strength in front of me looks as though she is about to crumble. I can see it in her eyes – that glimmer that says 'I knew this day would come but I hoped it wouldn't come for so much longer.' If I try and comfort her, then I know she will be mad but I can't just leave her like this. She looks smaller than I have ever seen her.

"Please stop looking at me as if I'm about to break down into an emotional wreckage at any moment. I'm fine. Now if you'll excuse me I have to finish packing."

I don't have to turn around to know that she is walking away with her back straight and her head held high. If I examined her heart; I've no doubt it would be in pieces.

I'll be here for you Connie, my silent warrior.


	3. Hollow strength

Chapter 3

I paused, just for a moment, at the end of the corridor. Then I continued to walk away, like I always do. She'll never know how much I wanted to turn around in that moment, to walk back to her. To tell her about my sisters: to tell her about my pain. I kept on walking, as I know I always will because I am already too vulnerable. I don't need anyone else to hurt me. It was never Carra's fault that she is so ill but you see; this is the perfect example of how much pain one person can cause even if they never meant to.

Oh, this is ridiculous! Listen to me and my daft self -indulgence. I've been so selfish with my thoughts that I have wandered to the other side of the castle. Everything will be alright once I get to Carra. As for now, I am still at school, so the strict, stern schoolmistress must return. Hopefully I will catch some students misbehaving; a good sharp reprimand will knock me back to my senses. No such luck. Everyone scarpers as soon as they see me: mine is a lonely existence. No! No, it isn't because I have my sisters and right now, they need me. And what am I doing? I'm wandering around the castle like a confused first year!

By the time I reach my bedroom I have come to the conclusion that I should forget about packing and leave straight away. I couldn't bare it if I wasn't there when … no Constance, don't think like that. You know full well that Carra will fight to the end. The thing is though that as much as I want to be there to hold her hand and comfort her, I can't even think of loosing her. As much as I wish I didn't think this, I'm sure I'm right when I say that Carra doesn't have the energy to fight anymore. Nor do I have the strength to be flawlessly and infallibly resilient anymore. It is wonderful to be needed but who am I supposed to turn to when I am weak? Who is going to tell me that everything will be okay?

I'm doing it again. I'm being ridiculously self – indulgent. This isn't about me right now, so I am going to pick up my broom and fly to the hospital. I've already left a message for Miss Cackle and Miss Drill knows the situation, so there is really nothing stopping me now.

As I leave the castle I can't help but feel a sense of guilt and deep regret. I love Cackle's and I love teaching but looking back at the somewhat Gothic building, I wonder if I should have devoted my life to my sister. Did I spend enough time with her when I had the chance? Did I make up for it once I knew that God had started counting down her days? I wish I could say yes but it is always hard when someone you treasure lives in the very place that haunts your daylight memories and disturbs your sleep in the darkness.

I've always believed that one of the best things about being a witch is being able to fly. Naturally my students all presume that I never allow myself to be open to pleasure. In truth though my favourite thing in all the world is to mount my broomstick and soar through the air, if you'll pardon the cliché. Flying, especially at nighttime in the blackest night, is true freedom. Unfortunately it is mid – morning right now but the night is the greatest gift of all. Broomstick flying is nothing short of a miracle. To be in the air is to feel extremely light. Unbound. Nothing and no one can pull me down until I choose to return. In life there are so many restrictions. I am tied just like everyone else. I have obligations to Cackle's Academy and to Miss Cackle, while she is an endearing woman; we both know that the school would collapse in seconds were in not for my firm hand and organisational skills. I also have obligations to my sisters, their children and Hardbroom Manor, which has to be financed, to say nothing of the staff that keeps it habitable all year round. Believe it or not I still have obligations to my ex – husband, which reminds me I must go and see him. Oh, that surprised you didn't it? Yes I was married once but back to my point, none of these boundaries can reach me up here because the sky is limitless. It is the only time I am truly free. I do wish I was flying at night though. There is no greater feeling than being surrounded by cool air whilst you race the moon to your destination.

Often I can't sleep at night, so I take out my broomstick and I fly around the outside of the castle and its grounds. I always assumed I was the only one awake at that time of night; that is until I saw her. And every night since, she has been at that window, silently watching me. I don't know why she does, perhaps it is out of jealousy as she cannot fly and will therefore only ever experience the freedom that comes with cycling. Or maybe she is watching me? Like she does when I am looking out of the window. She thinks I don't notice her but I do, I always do. I don't mean like those times when you can't help but notice someone you have a crush on. Envy is the thing that makes me notice her.

Once I reach the hospital, after two hours of flying by the way, I envy her even more because right now she doesn't have to go inside and make comforting sounds whilst her heart is breaking. Right now she doesn't have to repeat words of strength that she doesn't believe even though they are coming out of her mouth. The truth is I stopped listening to my own advice on the day that my brother died.


	4. The day she died

Chapter 4 – Celestia

I know she'll arrive here as soon as she possibly can. I know that but it doesn't stop me wishing she was here already. Listen to me, I wish she was always here actually. Of course I don't mean that I wish she was always at the hospital, I just mean that I'd love her to come home permanently. She comes at holidays but it simply isn't enough: I miss my big sister.

The manor is by no means empty with all of us there. The house is always full with cooking staff, cleaning staff and the occasional nurse to attend to Carrabelle. The staff has been at the manor, looking after the Hardbroom family since before I was born and so once the manor was passed to us after Father died, we retained the staff. Even when they have gone home to bed, there are still plenty of us to keep the place alive. Naturally, I still live there, it is after all my home, and I've never wanted to leave it. Carrabelle left after she finished at Broomhead's academy. She had a passionate desire to spread her wings, metaphorically speaking. She had felt imprisoned by the tyrannical leadership of Broomhead. Its funny isn't how one woman can have such a profound effect on four sisters.

The enforced conformity and institutionalised nature of the school made Carrabelle want to feel the freedom of travel, not being bound to any one place. Contrarily, once I returned to the manor I never wanted to leave again. Ironically, Broomhead instilled in Constance a determination to make a difference, to become the perfect teacher. I know she is extremely strict but it's only out of frustration at the girls' apathy towards their education. Compared to Broomhead anyway she is a pussycat. You may criticise Connie's strictness but she is always fair and she has not once given the girls a physical punishment. She would never do that. Not after all that Broomhead did to us.

I hated Broomhead when I was at school but even more so when I left. She was the one that made Connie and Carra leave me. Carra was gone for three years, that is until she fell ill and had to return home, so that we could look after her.

Fortunately the manor is an extremely large building, so we have all kept our rooms. When we were children the five of us had rooms on the top floor, there are five, so that we wouldn't disturb Mother and Father should they be doing something important. All five rooms face toward a pentagonal living room where we would spend our evenings chatting and planning, some might say conspiring. To the right of the staircase that leads to our floor is the room of the eldest Hardbroom child, Callisto. Diagonally opposite her is Carrabelle. My room is to the left of the staircase and diagonal to it is Connie's room. Between her room and Carra's room is Caleb's. Our only brother. I don't imagine it was ever easy for him to have been brought up with four sisters but we all loved him dearly. No that's not right. You don't cease to love someone simply because they are at peace. We never redecorated or cleared out his room because it will always be his room. Despite his absence, he will forever have a place in our house and our hearts.

I like to talk about Caleb, Carra and I are always sharing stories. Callie has always been proud of him for the way he died but Connie rarely mentions him. You see they were so very close. She adored him and he absolutely idolised her.

When he was a little boy, Caleb dreamed of joining the army. At career talks and advice seminars, he just wouldn't listen because he knew he was going to be a soldier. He enlisted at sixteen. Carra and I were pleased for him because he was thrilled. Callie was proud; her brother was fighting for our country and its values. He was also one of the tiny minority of soldiers to come from a magical background. Connie wasn't pleased or proud. She begged him not to join. She pleaded with him. She stayed up night after night trying to talk him out of it, thinking of new arguments. She was adamant that her baby brother would not put himself in harm's way to appease Father, to make an impossible man proud. He served for ten years with no problems. He toured in Bosnia, Ireland and numerous other places without a personal injury. As soon as Britain involved itself in the war with Iraq, Connie fervently tried to convince Caleb to retire from the army. It was too dangerous out there. Despite her initial objections when he first enlisted, she had come to accept Caleb as a soldier, until he was called to Iraq. If he withdrew, he would have nothing to be ashamed of because he had served his country well.

Connie just kept stressing that he was in grave danger. It is almost as if she knew. Two weeks into his tour Caleb was killed. His death, the result of a gunshot wound to the stomach, was slow and painful. As brave as he was in battle, nobody wants to die alone but he didn't have a choice. There is no way Connie could possibly have been there, yet I know she still feels immensely guilty. Her biggest regret though is that in the two weeks preceding his deportment she did nothing but try to talk him out of it.

This was over the Christmas period, so Connie was home as well. We were all there for the first time in ages. Perhaps we were all meant to be there, together again for one last time as a complete unit. Every conversation, every silence, everything was about Caleb going to Iraq. It was all Connie could think about. Connie has always been a tower of strength; consequently it broke my heart to see her so distraught. Never before that and not once since have I ever seen such pure desperation in her eyes. Eyes that once gleamed with mischief, enthusiasm and sheer joy.

The first thing she said upon hearing of his death was, "I wasted my last two weeks with him." If she could go back to any moment in time, I know she would go back to that Christmas and make the best of his last weeks alive. She would cherish the time they had together and laugh harder than ever before. She hates the thought that Caleb left believing she was mad at him. She wasn't mad: she was frightened.

I'm telling you this because I think it is important. Connie was always strict and stern; she didn't change to be like that after what happened to Caleb. Yet, she will never be the same woman that she was. Part of her died on that battlefield with Caleb. The part of her that put that glint in her eye and the sincerity in her smile.

I'm telling you this because she never would.

I wish she were here already. Its times like this when I really need her.


	5. Our last cuddle

There is a horrible feeling when you are running with a speed you never realised you had but you know you just know that you're too late.

You know as soon as you push through the hospital entrance that it's over but you start running and you keep running towards the heartbreak that is waiting for you. You keep running though; you legs won't let you stop just in case. You might be wrong; she might be sat up in bed waiting. Of course she will be. There is no point panicking because she'll be telling jokes with that wicked sense of humour everyone loves about her. And she'll be smiling because she always does no matter how bad things are. 'Things may be hard now but you can make it through the day if you can laugh' that's her motto. So I know that she's okay. There will be an attractive doctor in the room and she'll be charming him with that alluring smile of hers. He won't be able to tear his gaze from her eyes; no one can because they depict her beautiful soul. Physically Celestia, as her name suggests, is probably the most beautiful sister, but there is something about Carra. Her heart: that's what it is. She has the most loving heart and such a gentle spirit. You can't help but love her, no one can.

By this point, you've convinced yourself that she is going to be chatting, laughing, and waiting for you to arrive. This makes it all the more hard when you finally do get to her room, the hospital seeming far larger than it actually is, but there is no laughter.

No laughter.

When we were growing up Callie was afraid that, as the oldest, she would be forgotten about. The moment she ceased to be an only child, she became an expert attention seeker. Carra was never like that, she didn't have to be because she had a presence that filled the room. At 5'4 she was still the tallest person in the room and in black, she was the brightest light. Her hospital room was empty, just her on the bed in middle of this little room. The only room that had ever contained her but wasn't filled by her presence.

She could've been sleeping, was it not that she had the pallor of death. And that light, that pure good light, I don't know how or why, it just wasn't there anymore. I'd come to see my sister and this was her room but I had to be looking at someone else, there was no other explanation, this couldn't be my sister. I know my sister and this, this is not her. She can't be gone. I recall telling you that I didn't believe she had the strength in her anymore, I still thought that I was wrong. I am incredibly proud though. I would have given up the fight long ago.

She can't be gone. She just … she can't, she can't be gone. Not my Carra.

I don't know what I was doing. Probably subconsciously, I was sure that if I hung on a little longer, waited just a little more, she would jump out of bed and give me the cuddle I could physically feel was missing. We all knew that this day would come but the last time I saw her, she actually seemed better than I'd seen her in a long time. They say that happens though don't they? Just before someone is about to die they have a renewed lease of life. But who thinks like that? You believe, because you need to, that it is a good sign. I shouldn't have left. When she cuddled me for the last time, I should've held on so tightly that she couldn't be taken from me. I should've gripped her with such a furious love that death wouldn't ever be able to wrench her from my arms. But I didn't; I let go. I went back to school and I left her. I failed her like I failed Caleb. They are my siblings and I couldn't protect either one of them. I wasn't even there when they moved on. I wasn't there. All they ever did was love me, weak, worthless me and I wasn't there. At least with Caleb I could say that fought for him because I did. Until the moment he left, I begged and pleaded with him to stay. I did my best but Carra ... I let go of her.

I had wanted so badly to be with Caleb when he died. I hate that he was alone, in a foreign country and in pain. You never want to think of anyone in pain but when it is someone you love, you can feel it too. I still wish I could've been there to make his final moments on earth easier but seeing my beloved sister now, I am glad that I didn't see his body. Nothing can prepare you for seeing someone that enriched and enlightened your life suddenly so still.

Eventually I'll have to tear myself away. This isn't how I want to remember her; it isn't how she would want to be remembered. She was vivacious, beautiful, intelligent, and funny. She was kind, gentle, and loving but more than anything, she was alive. Becoming ill like that would have killed anyone else years ago. For anyone to be struck down with a possibly fatal illness like that is devastating but for a young adventurous girl to become so ill so unexpectedly, it was tragic. She couldn't travel anymore because with each attack she was in too much pain. There was no way of knowing when an attack would occur or when she would have to be hospitalised. She came home thinking that she could do something constructive and she could in between attacks. She had good days and bad days. On her good days, she liked to write.

She had loved to write. Carra was so talented, at everything, but particularly with her writing. There was never anything she couldn't convey in words. In fact, everything I always wanted from love I discovered in her writing. Funny too, there aren't many writer's that can make you laugh so much that you wake up the next day with pulled stomach muscles. I've read everything she's ever written and some of it wasn't all roses and humour. She also wrote her life and her illness. She was a bound free spirit. It broke the heart that everyone assumes I don't have to read words that conveyed more sadness than she allowed her sparkling eyes to show.

On her bad days, which increased in frequency, she couldn't write; she was just too drained. Physically and mentally. There is very little that hurts more than looking at a woman with the vitality you loved about her missing. Even her smile was tired. Not anymore though. She can live, laugh and love as she once did. She'll never be in pain, she'll never be weak and drained but most of all, nothing can bind her. Carra is finally free. I couldn't be happier for her, she has suffered enough, but what about those of us she has left behind? How does one go on without her sister?

I didn't know the answer to those questions and staring at her wasn't going to help me answer them either. I thought that life couldn't possibly go on after Caleb died but it did. I suppose that is human nature, to believe that the lives of those we love are so earth shatteringly important that when their life ceases to exist so will yours. And it does. Not it the literal sense that your heart physically stops beating; yet it beats to a different rhythm because something isn't quite right anymore. You carry on with life though, you walk tall, hold your head high and only you know that you're lighter because part of you is missing. The worst thing is that I knew she was getting weaker, on the phone I could tell; I knew she was going to leave us and I should have gone home, but I didn't because I always expected to see her smiling face forever. Just like I knew Caleb was going to war and I was frightened, terrified, but I never thought he wouldn't come back to me. It makes you wonder why the good die young. Why did God take them first? They were the bravest, most giving, and loving of the five of us. Nobody deserves to die but least of all them.

Of the five of us, yes, that reminds me, where are my sisters?

One final cuddle, a kiss on her too cold forehead and I leave the pale shell that used to encase the vivacious spirit of my little sister. That is why she had to die, her spirit had become too much to remain in the confines of her frail body. It needed to soar.

I have always had direction in my life. I've always known exactly where I am going and what I am doing. The moment the chilling wind caresses my damp cheeks, I realise I have nowhere to go. I can't return to the manor, I cannot bear to look at all of her possessions all the while knowing that she won't return to write on her laptop, or cuddle her favourite teddy, Henry, or wear that golden dress, the one that proved to anyone foolish enough to doubt it that she is a princess. She'll always be a princess. Truth be told I don't want to see Callie and Tia either. They'll be better off without me, for now anyway. They don't need me.

After ten minutes in the air, I realise I have inadvertently ended up at my ex – husband's house. Well, I'm here now. With practiced ease, I let myself inside. We've been divorced for two years now, so if you asked me, I couldn't tell you why I still have the keys but these shiny things in my hand are so much more than metal. They are the reason I feel safe in my own loneliness. I was loved once.

He was waiting in the hall for me. He always knew when I needed him to be there for me.

'I'm sorry about Carra' was all I let him say. Grateful that he had said 'Carra' and not 'your sister'; grateful because the grieving don't need to be reminded of how much they have lost.

His eyes told me that he felt the loss as well. He felt my pain as though it were his.

So once again, with practiced ease I collapse into those arms that hold me where I still belong.


	6. Charles

I realise that it has been a very long time and I apologise but I am updating now

Disclaimer: as in Chapter 1, I own nothing to do with the Worst Witch, the siblings, Charles and the story are my own.

Chapter 6

As I cuddled into my ex-husband, Charles, I knew exactly why I'd ended up here. His arms were my safe place. I am not by any stretch of the imagination a short woman and Charles is one of the few people I've come across in my life that have been taller than me. His height, broad chest and strong shoulders have always made me feel more feminine. In his arms I don't feel like I have to be as strong and dominant. I am the protected and not the protector for once. I didn't ask how he knew about Carra, it didn't matter. All that mattered was that she was gone and I needed him right now. He may not be my husband any more but he still has my heart and he always will.

Our divorce was amicable. There were no fights, no screaming matches, and no need for vitriol or expensive lawyers. Life is difficult sometimes and relationships are complicated. We ended the marriage because it was the right thing to do. I will always belong to Charles and the fact that he was waiting for me when I arrived tells me that he still belongs to me. It was my brother who introduced us many years ago. Charles and Caleb were thrown together in the basic training academy for magical army personnel. They shared a dorm with six other men. Well, I say men but they were boys really. They were only 16, young and inexperienced. They knew little of the world but that would change with their first tour of duty. They initially bonded over a mutual love for the game 'Frustration'. We used to play the game as a family when we were younger. Such a daft game but we used to have hours of fun trying to beat each other. Two of us would have to play as a team as there were only four colours. The two playing together would have strategies and secret plans. In retrospect, this makes me laugh as 'Frustration' cannot really be considered a game of strategy. The game holds many good memories for me and it for Caleb too. He arrived at the training academy with a photograph of the five of us playing together before he left. Charles saw the picture and expressed a similar love of the game. The picture sparked many questions about childhoods and families. They did not know it then of course but they would spend the next 15 years fighting side by side. They would have many good times in which they would enjoy being young and rebellious but they would also see each other through the toughest times. With each tour of duty, they would witness more destruction, devastation and pain than most of us would even think possible. Through the good and the bad, they had each other. That was until the invasion of Iraq. Charles was not in Iraq when Caleb died, he was on compassionate leave following the death of his mother. Charles has never forgiven himself for not being there but I never blamed him. If he had been there, I might have lost them both. I suppose in a way I did.

Caleb would visit the manor as often as his training would permit. He didn't like to admit it but Charles once told me that he missed us terribly. Caleb could often been seen staring at photograph albums and letters that we'd sent. He came home for our 18th birthday. I say 'our' because we are twins. Caleb brought Charles home with him to share in the celebrations. I didn't like him at first. He was arrogant, cocky and foolish. In the years to come, I would see a haunted look on his face or wake him from a horrid nightmare. In those moments, I wished that he could have the foolishness of his 18 year old self back.

When we first met, I told him that he wasn't my type and he told me he'd wear me down before he left. I laughed at him; he would only be at the manor for four days. It is rare that I admit to someone else being right but as I kissed him goodbye four days later, I knew that I loved him. To this day I don't know how he changed my mind. When he left my arms that day, I knew that I'd spend the rest of my life waiting for their return. You may think that it isn't like me to be so dependent on someone else for my own happiness and that you know me to be someone who enjoys solitude. I am very independent and self-reliant. I have always been like this but I had to be even more so because of my love for Charles. I imagine it would be harder to be married to someone in the military if you are not magical. It was easier for us to be in contact and to see each other more frequently but even with our magical capabilities, it was still hard to be apart. It made the time we had together even more special and we never took time for granted. It wasn't the distance that drove us apart or even the fear of losing him. It was Caleb. Caleb brought us together and ultimately he drove us apart.

We were both heartbroken by his death. Even when you anticipate death, there is still a wrenching pain that accompanies it. When you don't expect and it happens far away, it is shattering. I was with Charles when the news came. I don't remember much of that day. I remember that Charles did not let go of my hand all day. He never left my side. I was at the manor at that time, so my sisters were there as well. It's odd, I can remember how they reacted but I can't remember how I did. Callie was the strongest. She was calm and rational. She said that her heart was broken by his death but he had died a hero's death and we should all be proud. She wanted us to be comforted by the fact that he had died trying to improve the lives of strangers, making the streets safer for them and their children. For all the bad out there, the world was a little bit better because of our brother. I used to hope that he'd know that this is how we remember him but I don't need to hope anymore. Our darling Carra has gone to be with him and I know she'll tell him everything. I know she'll tell him how Celestia can talk and talk about him until she has no breath left. How Callie holds fund raising events for the Help the Heroes charity because she wants to help other soldiers in the way she couldn't help Caleb. I know Carra will tell him how we light a candle for him every Christmas because our world is a little bit darker without him in it. She'll tell him about the scrapbooks she made to honour his memory. All his letters and the photographs that helped him though the hard times were divided amongst us four sisters and Charles. We all cling to them in hard times and think of the strength they gave Caleb, hoping we'll find it too. He'll be happy when she tells him that. I can't put into words how much I will miss Carra but I take comfort in knowing that she will be with Caleb. I am jealous. Don't mistake me, I have no desire to die just yet but I do long for the day I will see them both again. I will sleep easier knowing that they have each other.

Charles resigned from the army as soon as he could after Caleb's death. It was too painful for him. Every day, every task, every mission was a constant reminder that Caleb wasn't at his side. He couldn't forgive himself for not being with Caleb when he died and I couldn't forgive him for not carrying on with his life. I understood that he was grieving; we all were but the living have a duty to the dead. We owe it to them to live our lives because they can't.

About a year later, our marriage really started to unravel and we decided to go our separate ways before things between us reached the point of no return. We wanted to end the marriage in a way that would preserve the good memories.

I've been writing all of this in the hope that one day people will understand that there is more to me than a long black dress and severe bun. Celestia will be surprised by this; she doesn't think I'll ever show this side of me but I want people to know that I am more than I seem. Yes, I'm stern and sometimes unyielding but I do love and am loved. I write this addition as Charles sleeps. I'm still here, I write this from the desk in his bedroom whilst he sleeps behind me. I'm going to join him now. I'll curl up in his arms and dream of my brother and sister playing 'Frustration' once again.

You may think it's odd that I'm about to crawl into bed with my ex but I need him tonight. On our wedding day, Charles presented me with a red rose. He said that the rose represented his love for me and as long as it was still in full bloom, then I could be sure that his love for me was as well. The rose was made of fabric. It sits on the desk in my room and, yes, it is still in full bloom.


End file.
